The Other Princess's Diary
by Kshafer0509
Summary: Mia is off on a trip around the world with her prince charming, and her best friend Lilly is stuck at home with not even so much as a royal title to her name, or is she? My first fanfiction submission, so please let me know what you think!


The Other Princess's Diary

**January 21, 2008**

This just doesn't happen. Not to me.

Well, I mean, I guess it could happen to me, it happened to Mia.

But what are the odds. Two Princesses, oh gosh I can barely write the word, two princesses who had no clue that they were princesses being best friends. Two people, that were the least princessy people in the United States, actually being princesses.

Okay. You have all seen the news. You have read the memoirs, the books, the tabloids and the magazine articles. You have probably pretty much pieced together the story of my best friend Princess _**Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo, or if I may just plain Mia. Well, if you ever get a hold of this diary, which you had better not, get ready for some major deja vu. **_

_**My story is freakishly similar to that of Mia's. We always laughed about when my estranged psycho grandmother would show-up to give me princess lessons. Well, it happened. 3 days ago. And it wasn't quite my grandmother, but it was some psycho assistant/secretary to my grandmother. Emphasis on the psycho.**_

_**I wouldn't believe it either if I didn't know for a fact that I was awake. I pinched myself for half the conversation and my eyebrows were getting plucked for the other half. Which I think did the job of pinching and then some.**_

_**Well, first things first. I am adopted. Me. My psychologist super smart parents adopted me, and Michael. But we are not from the same mother… that will be for another diary entry.**_

_**Reporters, they used to follow me because I was Mia's best friend, shouting about Mia's favorite restaurant, tv show, and favorite color. Oh, the good old simple days. Now they follow me shouting "Princess Lillian, what are your views of the Foreign trade industry in Pherkard?"**_

_**(Side note: I hate my real name. Lillian. It sounds like a grandma name, or a great depression name. No offense if your name is Lillian, then again, you shouldn't be reading my diary anyways, so I don't care if it offends you. Anyways…)**_

_**It has only been a few days since I found out, how did they figure it out so fast? Gotta hand it to those sleezy tabloid journalists, they know how to get their information.**_

_**Like Mia with Genovia, I had no idea that Pherkard even existed. It is probably the size of Rhode Island, maybe smaller, how would I know? It is one of those places they don't even bother to put on a map, or teach you in World Geography. **_

So, back to my Grandmother's wacky personal assistant, I was at my favorite coffee shop, Cool Beans (it sounds dumb but it has cheap prices, free wi-fi and this one really great sofa that I totally adore), and I got a call from home. Actually I missed a call from home and got a voicemail. A man with a strange mix of Asian and Irish accent (don't ask me how that works) was calling my cell phone, from my home phone. He said the queen would like to speak to me and to arrive at my home as soon as I got this message.

At first I wondered which one of my brother's friends was trying to play a prank on me. I mean, what a phony accent.

Then I started to think… None of his friends have a key, and Michael is in Genovia visiting Mia. So I headed home. Maybe my parents were testing one of their new analytical techniques, which would be no surprise. I figured I should humor them and head home for "the queen".

When I arrived to my building there, the street was lined by one limo and about 10 cop cars, and there were guards decked out in purple uniforms waiting by the door.

"_Wow, they are really going all out," _I had thought to myself.

I walked up the guards, and they asked for my name, in that same ridiculous accent, I might add.

"The queen wanted to see me. Lilly Moscovitz," I said, with a twinge of humor. Maybe Mia set this up as a joke, though she was awful at thinking of pranks, maybe she hired someone. Aw, I miss her.

"Right, of course, sorry Miss Lilly. Henry, escort her to the Queen please."

Just then some huge man, when I say huge I mean like six foot eight and totally built, grabbed my arm and started to "escort"( although it felt more like dragging me) up the stairs to my apartment.

I walked in and he shut the door, leaving me in the seemingly empty apartment.

"Hello Darling."

I turned around and there at the kitchen table was a lady. Sickly thin, with disgustingly long hair and a crown with so many jewels it looked like a bedazzler exploded. Her eyeliner could have rivaled that of Cleopatra, her eye shadow was some insanely bright shade of green, and her jewelry almost certainly outweighed her by at least 10 pounds.

"Hello," I managed to mumble. This lady was scariest thing I have seen since Michael forced me into watching the 1960 movie _Psycho_ when I was nine.

"Oh my dear, what has happened to you?" She asked as her boney fingers and 3 inch long fake nails stroked my cheek. It would be a loving gesture if I weren't worried for my life and it also might have helped if she didn't look like a skeleton with a fake tan baggily stretched across it.

"Clara!" She screamed, making me jump about 2 feet back and hit my hip on the corner of the counter.

'Ow,' I whimpered.

Out of nowhere a 20 something with mousy brown hair, in a bun, and a clipboard quickly made her way to the kitchen clicking her kitten heels along the way.

"Yes. How may I be of service your Royal Highness?" Her voice squeaked, like she was worried the evil woman might yell "OFF WITH HER HEAD!" at any moment, and I couldn't blame her.

"So you're the queen?" I asked with a quirked brow.

"No, no darling, I am her personal assistant. I might as well be queen, but it wasn't in my blood, you know the government is so picky about who rules countries these days," she rolled her eyes and looked back at her assistant. Assistant to the assistant to the queen, glamorous.

"We need to set up a hair appointment, facials, spa… maybe liposuction…" she obnoxiously half whispered, pointing at my rounded body shape.

"Hey now, wait up. Liposuction is not an option here." I said, voicing my obvious dismay. What would viewers of Lilly Tells it Like it is, have to say if I got plastic surgery after the big spiel I did last week on the evils of going under the knife. I could never work in this town again.

"But darling, the Twilight Shimmer is coming up soon, and you don't want to look, piggish in your designer gown, it just won't do." She said, stroking her forhead and being dramatically stressed. I just stared at her with an incredulous look in my eyes.

"Ok fine, scratch the lipo, schedule her with 4 Pilates, 3 yoga, 2 kickboxing, 3 dance, and 2 weight lifting courses before the end of this week. Get my dietician on the phone stat, we need a plan if she is going to lose this, this" she paused, searching for the right word, but gesturing to all of my body.

For me, a person that the most exercise they get is the required PE credit, then that's, that's, that is not gonna happen. Let's just be honest here.

"Hold up! No way. That's insane, the week is half way through, and I am not _that_ overweight. Are you insane? What is going on here?"

"Oh darling, they didn't tell you? You're a princess and it is high time your get your head out of the New York smog and into some etiquette lessons, and quickly might I add."

Is this a joke? Well, to get through the boring lipo vs exercise argument and stuff. It wasn't a joke, and about 10 minutes later, a man came in. He had pink hair and was carrying an extremely large and clanking duffel bag. Behind strolled two assistants, in mini-skirts, halter tops and platform heels, carrying smaller bags and a salon chair.

"Wait, your actually making me change my hair? And why is half the salon here?"

Missing the whole point of my question, she replied, "Darling when you're royalty, you don't go to the salon, the salon comes to you."

Four hours of bleaching, plucking, waxing, straightening, and highlighting later… here I was. A totally new person, a princess. Lillian Marie Michaels Grennison Lothwaite, Princess of Pherkard, to be exact.

**January 22****nd**** 2008, 2 AM**

Princess. I can still barely write it.

Pherkard. I still have no idea how to pronounce it in English.

I know how the Pherkardians (is that what they're called?) prounounce it, but I don't know how to say it minus the heavy accent.

Do they speak a different language, or do they just speak with a super heavy accent? (Which by the way might as well be another language.)

Does my country have money, or are we about to die out? Do we have enemies, or are we like Switzerland?

Where the heck is Pherkard? I mean it sounds kinda middle eastern, but I mean, where in the world is it? I guess I will be doing some googling, as soon as they give me my laptop back!

They have someone looking through all my files, my emails, my contacts… Looking for threats to national security, I am sure they will get a kick out of those fake tv interviews Mia and I used to do in like fourth grade.

I cannot believe they confiscated my laptop, phone, and even my television. Yes, please tell me how watching a corny hallmark movie is detrimental to the Pherkardian National Security? Because I, as Princess of Pherkard, am at a loss.

I have a stress headache that two tylonal, and two ibuprofen can't touch. I am probably gonna breakout from stress, and gain ten pounds because my addicting friendship with the men the world lovingly refers to as Ben and Jerry.

Back to bed, me and my eye mask, and the iPod I somehow kept hidden from the electronic Nazis that are going to guarding my door all night long. I haven't even figured out any of their names yet.

TO DO:

Google Pherkard, by any means necessary.

Lose the headache.

Get out of yogalatis and running 10 miles at 6 AM.

Survive or skip school tomorrow, yeah, I'll skip.

Figure out the body guards names and try and ditch them during school hours.

Call Mia, and Michael.


End file.
